


No Goodbye At All

by Diana_Prallon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Canon Compliant, Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Goodbyes, Hurt/Comfort, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:03:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diana_Prallon/pseuds/Diana_Prallon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Please, God, have mercy – not like this, not again, not without a goodbye, not without so many things left to say…)</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Goodbye At All

He never said goodbye – not really. He had jumped out of bed, someone else’s name on his lips, moving away from her – forgetting her. By the time she had sat down, he was already barking orders outside.

They had shared a look and a nod as he positioned himself in front of his army, ready to give them his speech. Gwen had just left for the make-shift hospital, where she was needed. They were not just a couple – they were not even just people – they were symbols and they had to show their people that they were confident – that there would be a tomorrow.

And while tomorrow came and Camelot was safe, Arthur was nowhere to be found.

Had she been just another wife, she might have stayed back and roamed through the battlefield to find him.

She was not a wife – she was a consort. Her first duty was to her people, and she brought them back to the Citadel, back into safety after a battle that might have coasted her more than she was ready to give.

There was nothing for her to do but wait – her eyes on the courtyard and hours passing unseen as she stood by the window, sinking in memories, a prayer never far from her lips.

(Please, God, have mercy – not like this, not again, not without a goodbye, not without so many things left to say…)

* * *

 

Gwen can remember the first time Arthur came to say goodbye – so many years ago. He had been about to lead a searching party to find Morgana with the druids, and she was more than a bit unsure about what it meant that he had singled her out  (even if discreetly) in the midst of all Camelot.

It was also one of the first times she had seen him being awkward. Arthur shuffled his feet and rolled his shoulders as if he was unsure of what to say.

“I’m going to find her – she’ll be back in no time, I promise.”

Gwen curtsied, and it just seemed to make him more uncomfortable.

“I shall pray for your safe return” she said, finally, as he didn’t seem to be leaving.

“Thank you.”

* * *

 

Every hour brought a new fresh batch of corpses to the yard – all properly covered in white sheets and ready to be recognized by friends and family. There were many red capes showing through the linens, but there were also too – not soldiers, but people like she had been, who were ready to take matters into their own hands and fight for justice, fight for freedom.

* * *

 

Arthur didn’t seem nearly as sure the next time he came to say his goodbyes. He was once again dealing with unruly druids, helped by some mysterious crystal thing they had robbed from the Camelot vaults itself. It seemed perfectly ordinary – and yet, absolutely nonsensical – to Gwen that men would get more worked up about a stolen stone than a missing person. The previous time, Arthur had been clearly confident that he’d bring Morgana back with minimal fuss, even though she had been snatched from her own chambers (which, admittedly, were less secure than the vaults, but Morgana was also much more pro-active than a crystal and she couldn’t see her friend being taken away that easily).

But maybe it was the magic thing – how much more dangerous they might be with the aid of the said stone.

“I hope I can count with your prayers once again” there was dignity and maybe even distance in his voice, but she could see in his posture how tense the whole thing made him feel.

“You can always count on them” she replied, smiling.

“May I also ask you to wish me luck?” he wondered, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other.

“No need” she guaranteed him, her smile never faltering. “I believe in you.”

He stood up straighter at that, and had she known it was so easy to give him strength, she would have started it sooner.

* * *

There were many and more bodies, but none of them were his – she was sure of it. She was sure he was still alive, somewhere, because… She would know if he wasn’t, wouldn’t she? As if something had broken down and drowned her. He was all the family she had left. He wouldn’t leave her alone, not now – not ever, if he could help it.

* * *

 

“I’m going to solve this” was actually Arthur’s next goodbye line, as he stood by Gwen’s side. She had been distracted with caring for the poor burnt soul in the make-shift hospital that had been built inside the castle hall. His voice startled her, both by its suddenness and by its harshness.

“You know I believe in you” she said, cautiously. “And so does all of Camelot, but that doesn’t mean you have to solve everything by yourself.”

“It’s my duty” he replied, stiffly “to my people, to my land, to my own self. I couldn’t live with it if I hadn’t done everything in my power.”

“But what _can_ you do by yourself?” she cried out. “You’re but one – and it’s a _dragon_.”

“I’m off to find someone who can control them” he confided, looking around.

“Are there such people?” she frowned.

“Gaius says so, he also gave us his name” there was no need to wonder who the “us” meant, it could only be one person, really. “We’ll be leaving within the hour, and we’ll return with the solution to this.”

She nodded and carefully placed a hand upon his.

“I’ll be eagerly waiting.”

The way he smiled at her was soft, and it did make her heart feel like it was ready to explode – and then Merlin was calling, and he left.

* * *

 

“Who else is still unaccounted for?”

“Gaius.”

It was as if the ground had crumbled under her feet. Just as she was sure that Arthur was alive, she was certain that he was injured, or he would have been there as soon as the battle ended, lording over all of them. If Gaius was missing and Merlin hadn’t returned, who could possibly save him?

“He has not been seen?”

“Not since the battle.”

(“Please, not Gaius, not him, he has done so much, he deserves to die peacefully, in his own bed.”)

* * *

 

There were too many goodbyes, too many welcome backs in the year after that. None of them ever brought good news – Morgana was still missing, they were still searching for her. Arthur would always come around and she would give him some reassurance – sometimes more than words, but little touches and longing looks.

And then she was found, and for a while, there were no goodbyes between them.

It had been good, it had been quiet.

It hadn’t lasted long.

* * *

 

She knew it was her duty to be the one to say goodbye this time – she knew he would never do it himself, he was too loyal, too honorable to do so.

“Guinevere!” he said, as soon as he opened up the door.

Gwen fought to hide her blushing.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t just turn up like this.”

The prince walked towards the window, and she walked inside, carefully choosing her words. It was for the best.

“Everyone's talking about your marriage to Elena. I know you said that it isn't what you wanted, but I also know that you can't always have what you want. I know that very well.”

She could hear him almost scoffing at it. It certainly was no news for him either.

“Is what I want really that insane?”

“Yes, Arthur. From anyone's perspective, apart from yours and mine, it's completely insane.”

“Then I'm happy being insane. Surely it's better than being miserable.”

“I don't think she will make you miserable. She has a good heart.”

“As do you.”

It’s not that she didn’t love him, but he _had_ to understand that there are responsibilities that go far and beyond our hearts desire. Arthur had sacrificed much for Camelot, but, still, he had always had what he craved for – he was the prince, after all. He had never loved and lost, unlike her.

“We both know it can't be.”

“But if I do it. If I marry her, what will you do?”

And there it was – her moment, her goodbye, her choice – not for herself, but for Camelot.

“I will watch you grow into the King that Camelot deserves. It is as it should be.”

* * *

 

He had grown into more than that – more than she had ever expected. He had rose up like the sun, shining brightly and illuminating all the dark, forgotten corners of the Kingdom – uniting different powers, conciliating, making alliances, all without ever losing sight of who he was. Gwen felt that she had underestimated him, early on. Arthur, although he would never admit or agree to it, had become the stuff of legends.

Now, the night had set again.

* * *

 

Gwen also took charge or their following goodbye – anxious, proud, and a bit terrified for him.

“I know you have to go but…”

Did she even have the right to ask anything? She _had_ given him up – she had said goodbye – she wasn’t even sure of what she was doing here – if it was the most selfish thing she had done so far or if it was just what they both needed.

“I’ll be careful” he assured, not in the cocky way he would have a couple years before, but with honest concern.

“For me” she continued, her voice a bit strangled with uncertainty, and he leaned down and kissed her right on the lips, soft and full of future promises of happiness.

* * *

 

The morning saw Gwen immediately back to the window, after a couple hours of troubled sleep. She felt tired, her whole body aching and complaining, her head heavy, but her vigil finally seemed to be paying off for couple hours into the morning, she saw Gaius galloping inside the city as if he was a much younger man.

There was hope.

* * *

 

They were all agitated in the morning before such a dire battle, but Arthur took his time to speak with each one of them. Gwen knew there was a reason for her to be the last one he talked to.

“Stay here with Gaius. I want you to gather firewood and make bandages. There'll be casualties.”

“Alright” She certainly wasn’t thrilled about it, but in all honesty, it was the best usage of her skills. Arthur leaned closer to her.

“Guinevere.” It was a plea and a warning.

“ They'll see” she whispered, frantically.  They had been hiding for so long – and her previous experience with exposure of their complicated relationship had been… terrible to say the least. And that was even discounting Lancelot, whose eyes she could feel burning on her skin.

“I don't care.” Gwen could have scoffed – of course he didn’t. For all that he had amazed her yesterday, it was a certain relief that he was still so immature as to say something like this – it would never be _his_ head on a stake; it wouldn’t be _his_ heart broken. It was good to remember this, for in the previous night she had felt more keenly than ever that he was destined for greatness and that she could never truly match him. It made him more real – more lovable. “I want you to know...if I never see you again...”

And there it was – the uncertainty, the youth, the inability to see how amazing he was. How could she resist it?

“You will. You will see me. I watched you last night. You gave us hope, something to believe in. I saw the king you will become. I'm so proud of you Arthur.”

Then his lips were on hers, his arms around her body, hungry and desperate and she knew she didn’t want to hide this anymore.

* * *

 

She ran as fast as her skirts would allow her, moving to meet the old man and his news. Gaius seemed tired and more broken than he had the right to be as she called him.

“Gaius!” she said, her voice trembling with fear.

“My lady” it didn’t bode well, that reverence.

“Tell me” she was sure beyond logic that he knew of Arthur’s fate. Gaius always knew more than he wanted people to realize.

“He’s alive” he replied, and she couldn’t avoid a sigh of relief – she had feared for him all the time in a way she hadn’t for years – not truly, not fully, not since the Dorocha and the terrible price she had paid for it (she would do it again without a blink, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t weight on her heart with guilt; maybe that was why she had been so foolish afterwards).

In time it would be a memory of sweetness rather than fear, as it was the memory of him leaving to the Isle of the Blessed.

* * *

 

“Promise to me you’ll look after him when I’m gone.”

There was a somberness in his features that she hadn’t seen before – not even when Camelot had been taken by the immortal army. This was far beyond it; not even all Gaius’ research had found a way to stop the attacks save going to the Isle of the Blessed and closing the veil again – whatever it might ensue.

“What is it?”

Arthur didn’t reply, and his lack of words were all the confirmation she needed: it would be no easy task to close the veil, and the sacrifices that needed to be made might reflect on all of their futures. He had no words to explain that to her, and she had no thought of acting as if it were nothing.

“You don’t have to go.”

In her experience, there was always another way – a third way. Arthur didn’t need to offer himself as a gift to whatever deities that had unleashed this horror. Maybe they had missed something, and he was rushing into danger.

“I do” he replied, simply, because Arthur wasn’t a man to wait around while his people suffered, whatever the cost for himself. There was nothing left for her to do but to plead him to be safe and pray for his return.

“Please, Arthur, take care. You are precious, not just for the kingdom.”

The words sort of slipped through her mouth unbidden, and she was rewarded by his soft half-smile.

“Smile” he ordered her, but there were things not even a Prince could make happen.

“I can’t.”

Arthur’s hand pulled on her chin, almost a caress, forcing her to look at him.

“Do you remember… The first time I kissed you?”

It would be impossible not to, it would be impossible to forget his uncertainty and his sweetness. It seemed that Arthur always got what he wanted, even when a mere second ago she couldn’t imagine smiling; her mouth stretched in a found grin, matched by his own.

“There. That’s the memory I want to take with me.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her close in silence while she cling at him, not yet ready to let him go, not ready to say goodbye, not ready to lose him to death.

He hadn’t been the one she lost.

* * *

 

It was a sweet memory, but reality pushed on, cutting through her thoughts and her relief.

“Then why isn’t he with you?” Gwaine asked, quicker than she was.

“He’s wounded” Gaius words were like a puncture to her heart. “He wanted me to give you this, my lady.”

She watched as he gave handled her a ring – the royal seal, that hadn’t left his hand since his father had gone into shock, not even when Morgana had overthrown him in his first year as king. It reminded her of another ring – one he hadn’t given her because fate had decided that it wasn’t his time yet; one that had been an apology for deserting her. No words of kindness, only duty, now as it had been then.

Then again, she understood now as she hadn’t then that sometimes duty must come first – it was more important that she had the full power and unquestioned rule now than it was for her to hear sweet nothings, things she had known for years; not if he trusted that he’d be back to tell all of those things once again. The battler had been won, but Morgana had escaped and there were still many Saxons roaming on their lands. The war wasn’t over, not yet, and she couldn’t let her duty be overshadowed by her worries. Still, his safety was also one of her duties.

“Where is he?”

“There’s a place where he may be saved.” Gwen didn’t miss the uncertainty on his voice, making her nerves stir again. “Merlin is taking him as we speak.”

“Then we must send him the knights” It was the only sensible thing to be done and she looked at Gwaine immediately, sure of what was to be said. “Ready as many man as you can…” but Gaius interrupted her instructions.

“No, my lady. Merlin can cope by himself” and if there was no sureness when he spoke before, now there was no doubt.

“Merlin?” she replied, disbelieving.

“You must trust him.”

And she did – she trusted Merlin with her heart, but it was unbearable to let this harm Arthur’s safety and Arthur’s chances; it was always Merlin, always the one that Arthur kept by himself when trouble while she was kept safe and given duties that left her heart empty and broken; she trusted Merlin – but he was just a _man_ and she couldn’t have it anymore.

“How can one may be as strong as an army?”

She knew she ought to feel ashamed of her outburst, and the way Gaius raised his eyebrows made her feel a bit like a child being too willful for their own good, but it was her husband they were talking about; not just her king. She was entitled to break down.

“Morgana's forces are still searching for Arthur. Two men travelling alone stand a much better chance of evading her, especially if she has no idea where they're heading.”

At this Gaius moved his eyes from Gwen to Gwaine’s, and suddenly the knight felt a little uneasy. There was more, then, more to do than wait; maybe there were other ways to guarantee his safety.

* * *

 

It was a bitter remedy in the end.

Gwaine had been fooled, led by love and lust to give away tiny pieces of information that ended up endangering all of them. She could see how it hurt him; how it pained him, and she couldn’t pretend she didn’t know how it felt like.

She knew very little of being betrayed in love – but she knew too well how it felt to be betrayed by your own heart.

The one goodbye she would never forget.

* * *

 

“Do you know what they're saying?  That in my father's day, you'd be put to death.”

The tears might choke her long before the rope did. Gwen could feel herself splitting in two, torn between guilty and pain, torn between two loves when only one of them would be enough to drown her, added to the pain of being accused of never having felt for him more than what was due to a liege.  It was not the King she had learned to love, but the man – she would have loved him just as well had him not been the king. Yet, him being who he was might cost her her life.

“I don't want to see you dead, Guinevere. But I don't want to see you.I cannot look on you every day. You will leave Camelot at first light--I cannot look on you every day. You will leave Camelot at first light…”

“Arthur”

Gwen tried to voice something, an apology or an explanation, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t about reason, it wasn’t about things that could be measured, explained, recorded. It had been about mixed feelings, the guilt of being responsible for his loss, the relief of seeing him back, the fear of the position she was about to rise to – everything and nothing – but Arthur couldn’t see that, he couldn’t think about her experience when his betrayal stung so much. It wasn’t just about happiness or love, it wasn’t just that, it was so much more complicated and her head shook as it crossed her mind before she nodded once again, unsure of everything but sure that she felt too much for this man to have betrayed him so. She had loved Lancelot – a part of him would always love him, but it wasn’t as straightforward as that. To Arthur, it was much simpler – she had promised herself to him alone and failed to keep that promise.

“You return upon pain of death.”

“No.” It was a pleading, but he clearly had no time for her pleadings – he merely walked past her and he heart felt like it was going to explode, desperate and intense and the ground was crumbling beneath her feet as she tried to reach him.”

“No, no, no! I cannot be without you!”

“That is my decision.”

His voice was firm, unlike how broken and angry he had sounded before. It made her stop dead in her tracks, unsure of what to do, sure she had lost it all.

“Where will I go?”

“I am sorry. I am truly sorry.”

She had been sure she’d never see him again.

* * *

 

Gwen couldn’t count how many times they had said goodbye since she had become Queen, but it she could remember the reunions well enough. The days or weeks apart were almost worth it when he came to her, completely ignoring anything else until he had allowed each part of their bodies to show how much they had missed each other as it saw fit. She hated that they had to say goodbye, but she longed to say hello once again.

She wouldn’t trouble herself with memories of times long gone or questions about how little they had shared before the battle, of how he hadn’t sent her any words of love.

Arthur always returned, a smile and a kiss, flowers and embraces, and she would smile and kiss him and pour all the love she felt in caring for him, even if they couldn’t do it the way they usually did. It was far beyond that – far beyond the love of a lover, but also the love of a friend, a guardian, a partner, a queen. She would ask him nothing and give him everything, erasing the goodbye that never was with a welcome that surpassed everything else.

It would be fine.

(He never came back).


End file.
